


The Language of Gods

by alchemicals



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, All three are cis males, Alternate Universe, Daddy Kink, Death, Death rules them both, It's quite sweet ngl, Kinks, Light Dom/sub, Limbo, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Unless you count death being a god, pure smut tbh, should i write more?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22056967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicals/pseuds/alchemicals
Summary: To this date, there are only two known wizards that have defied Death. Here, they return to him, one sarcastic and begging for it, the other willing to please him forever. An odd trio, but they make it work. Tom loves that they make it work.
Relationships: Death/Harry Potter, Death/Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Death/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 14
Kudos: 314





	1. Tom meets Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for not writing the second chapter of Something Wicked just yet but this idea came into my mind and I immediately wanted to write it! It's not Drarry - SHOCK! HORROR! - and it's actually what I think of as quite a small and secluded ship but it's sailing strong. 
> 
> So, dear Reader, apologies for the lack of actual plot here but these three were so cute I just had to write semi-smut okay?  
> Have fun reading!

Tom had not known Limbo would be like this. 

If he had, perhaps he would have taken more care in hiding his souls. How a 17-year-old boy and his two bumbling friends found his Horcruxes, he would never know. Now, Harry Potter was long gone, lost to the land of the living. Tom had made his choice. He sat, cross-legged, in the floating grey space and contemplated death. It was no secret that it unnerved him. When he had lived, idiots believed the one he feared was Dumbledore, a foolish old bat of a wizard. Yet death had been his real master, governing his every thought. Everything Tom had done, was to avoid death.

And now, here he was, in Death's own living room.

His fear was a quieter thing, now. It did not rear its ugly head at inopportune moments. Perhaps because there was nothing to interrupt in Limbo. Or perhaps, now that Tom had experienced dying, his fear of death had abated somewhat. He knew not what he felt for Death, though. He was yet to meet the god. An entire century in Limbo, and no word from his own master. He was beginning to feel left out.

"Unlike some of us, I do not rush into things head-first."

The voice shocked Tom from his thoughts. He made to stand up when a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. Instinctively, he shifted until he was on his knees, still floating in nothingness. It had been strange at first, getting used to this non-friction, yet physics had no place, here. The ground was whatever air molecule he chose. 

A deep chuckle sounded in his ear. Cold breath ghosted the side of his face, and Tom shivered. That surprised him. He had not had such a human reaction in 100 years. Long, bony fingers dug harder into his shoulder, sharpening his attention on the body behind him in distinct clarity. 

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the voice said. "Beautiful, aren't you?"

Yes, when he was stripped of the oddity that becoming Lord Voldemort made him, Tom was nothing to be scoffed at. His dark brown hair was softly tousled, falling into his face. He had the face of a god himself, with a long, strong nose and chiselled cheekbones. His eyes were silver and glowed in the dim light of Limbo.

Death pressed closer to him, running his hand down the front of Tom's bare chest. A nail scraped a small, pink nub. Tom closed his eyes and moaned softly into the silence. Death did not make noise as he breathed. In fact, Tom was sure the god did not need it at all. 

"Why are you here?" He asked. "Took you long enough."

Death tutted, and the hand fell away. Tom forced himself not to buck. He felt cold without the touch. 

"I didn't say you could ask me questions." Death stepped away from him. "But I will answer, seeing as how testy you humans can get. Although-" here, he paused, the hint of a smile in his voice-"you are mild-mannered, compared to the companion you will be receiving."

This caught Tom's attention. "Companion?" He turned around, slowly, as to not incur a rage. He bit his lip at the perfection standing before him. 

Death stood tall, with flowing white hair that reached his broad shoulders. He had tied it back messily, leaving strands to frame his sharp features. Blood red lips parted, revealing sharpened fangs. Tom shifted, suddenly feeling warm. Death grinned and it reeked of horror. His eyes were a curious purple, seeming to suck in all light from around him. They spoke of fear, misery and abandonment. Tom liked them. 

"You're quite beautiful for a god that takes life from others," Tom said. Death inclined his head. As he stepped closer, his aura reached out and grasped Tom in its intensity. A small whine left Tom's throat, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. He had a sneaking suspicion he would grow too accustomed to this. 

"Thank you, mortal." So Death knew his p's and q's, too. "Your companion will arrive soon. He and I have struck up a deal and I have chosen for him to come here to stay with you."

Tom had once questioned, 50 years ago, where all the other inhabitants of Limbo stayed. Now, he knew that they had their own separate versions, each filled with one thing that scared them the most. Tom's, now, was filled with Death. He wondered whether this companion would send him running for the hills.

Death encircled Tom in his embrace, his strong body rubbing against the mortal's lithe form. Tom leaned into it, despite the tinge of fear trickling down his spine. He had missed being held, and being near Death brought the life back to his soul form. He breathed in the scent of death and decay, flushing deep red when Death pressed their hips together, sending sparks of electricity through his form. He liked this. Gods did he like this.

And then the pressure and strength were gone. As though they had never been there.

Tom sat, and waited patiently - he had learned patience from his stay in Limbo - for his new companion.


	2. Tom meets Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry appears. Tom wishes he hadn't.

When Harry Potter appeared, Tom was busy admiring the silk green shirt that Death had given him. It was beautiful, and to wear it was somewhat strange when he had been half-naked for the better part of a century. Harry Potter came crashing into Limbo with messy black hair and flashing green eyes, his tan face flushed with anger. Tom watched the boy quietly. He had nothing to say.

Harry appeared to. "He promised me you wouldn't be here!" His voice was shrill. Tom winced, used to the low tenor of Death's voice, and the silence that was his home. This new soul form was far too loud, too colourful, too bright. Harry Potter spoke too much of life, so fresh and so new from Earth.

Tom shrugged, adjusting his cufflinks again. They were silver snakes. He adored them. "Death is a liar. You of all people should know that, by now."

There was silence, until -"You killed my parents."

And Tom looked at the boy, really looked at him. He was cute, Tom would give him that. But he had grown a beard, a trimmed thing that curved along his sharp jawline. Tom refrained from reaching up to touch his own smooth face, knowing full well he had always been so baby-faced. Suddenly, resentment flared up in his chest, and he smiled at Harry. The boy recoiled, and hysterical laughter bubbled up in Tom's chest.

"You killed _me_ , Harry."

With that, Tom left, floating away to some unexplored corner of Limbo. He had never explored before, because before there had never been such an invasive force in his little bubble. He liked where he had stayed, and he fully planned to return when the brat had vacated. Perhaps Death would come to his senses and deport the kid back to the land of the living. Tom smiled ruefully. Wishful thinking - Death was never fully in his right mind.

When Tom returned, perhaps years later, he did not know, Harry had grasped the concept of the non-physics. He was on his back, his knees drawn up and feet planted firmly on the grey space. He was naked, as Tom had been at the beginning of his stay. He supposed, now, that was because Death had liked his body well enough to want to stare at it before finally giving him trousers. He wondered if Harry's nakedness was for him, or for the god. 

Harry was touching himself, calloused fingers trailing over heavy balls. His other hand played lightly with the tip of his cock, drawing clear wetness from the hole. Tom stared, wondering where the tiny baby he had tried to murder those years ago had gone.

"It's highly inappropriate to be doing such activity in my homestead, Harry," he said. 

The boy jolted, scrambling to sit up and cover his privates in hurried motions. Not graceful, yet it had a certain pull to it. Tom floated closer until he came to stand right over Harry. Green eyes travelled up his legs, stopping to admire the bulge in his pressed black trousers before they rested on his own silver eyes. Tom smirked. This time, the boy didn't so much as flinch. His skin flushed a pretty red, and a sharp tongue flicked out to lick full lips. Dazedly, Harry stood up, pressing close to Tom's body.

"I was worried you wouldn't come back," Harry mumbled. "Death said you were brooding."

Tom snorted. "As I said, Death is a liar. And this is my home, of course, I would return."

Harry nodded, so close that the strands tickled underneath Tom's chin. Gods, the boy was rather short, wasn't he? 

"Kiss me."

"Aren't you a bossy. I would be decades your elder on Earth, Harry."

Harry grinned as he stepped into Tom's personal space, resting his lips at the base of the man's throat. "Kiss me," he demanded, again.

And Tom did. The boy melted as soon as he grabbed those beautiful curls, tugging Harry into obedience. A loud moan escaped from his throat, and Tom licked up the sound, feeling rushed and warm all over. He devoured Harry's mouth, reaching in with his tongue and licking every surface available to him. They parted lips with a small sound, spit hanging from their lips. Harry's eyes were glazed, as though this was what he had come to Limbo for. To find this sort of primal peace.

Tom pulled him close. "You're such a good boy, aren't you?"

Harry keened, curving upwards into him. "Yes, Daddy. So good for you. Only for you."

Tom swallowed the lie with another kiss and waited for Death to come.


	3. Tom meets Death and Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio find harmony.

Tom did not know how to feel about Harry and Death. When the god had come just moments earlier, the boy had flushed such a vibrant shade of red, his whole body screaming with electricity and tension. Tom could practically feel the lust falling from him in waves. He frowned, watching the god tower over Harry. Death picked the boy up easily and Harry wrapped strong legs around the god's lean waist. His cock rubbed against one toned pectorial, and Tom pressed a hand to his own erection. It was erotic, their kiss, the epitome of sex itself. Tom wondered if perhaps they did not need him at all.

Which was fine. He had survived his century of no contact, and only two more centuries to go before the Underworld Council appealed his case. He would be free to wander the Afterlife, then, with a guardian in tow to keep watch of his movements. But he would be free. He could wait two more eternities for that, no questions asked. He would not need Death, then. And Harry would be nothing more than a memory.

With that Tom turned around, leaving the two to their private moment.

Harry was mouthy. He whined and whimpered, moaned and made sexy little noises that drove Tom mad just listening to them. He cursed and screamed at Death when he deigned to appear, and Tom heard more than he thought he should. Death and Harry had known each other for long, companions in Harry's adult years. He was the one that taught Harry to plead so beautifully, to beg 'yes, please, Daddy' and grind at a punishing rhythm. Tom had no such teacher. He kept to himself these times, often floating off to other places in Limbo. There, he came again and again and again, spurting white liquid to thoughts of Death's vibrant eyes and Harry's little mewls. His body ached the need to have them both. Yet they had each other.

It was when Harry started receiving gifts that Tom realised they were teasing him. Playing him, to see his reaction. Harry received the same silk shirt, yet in deep ruby. His cufflinks were golden lions that opened their mouths in silent roars at random intervals. He got books and Muggle toys and chocolate frog cards. Tom received perhaps a quill when their game requested he receive something. He did not come to resent them. Instead, Tom thought that perhaps all this only increased his need for both of them. He felt as though he would simply disappear in smoke if he did not touch one of them soon.

Tom awoke - he had been getting back into his more mortal habits - to strong arms engulfing him. He pressed into Death's chest, closing his eyes as the familiar scent hit him. Gods, it turned his stomach yet stirred his groin in the most appealing way. Death pressed a cold nose to Tom's neck, his sharp tongue flicking out to lick the tender skin. Fangs grazed the tendons connecting Tom's neck to his shoulders, and the man groaned. Fuck it felt good.

Something warm wrapped around his legs, and Tom opened his eyes to see Harry nuzzling his thighs. The boy looked dazed, drunk on lust. His lips parted. "Daddy, please. I need you."

"You heard the boy," Death whispered in Tom's ear. "We're in need of your services, and I'm quite frankly tired of your brooding."

Tom huffed, scowling at them. His glare dissolved fairly quickly when Harry mouthed the bulge in his trousers, drawing moisture from the tip of his cock. "I- holy _fuck,_ I don't brood."

Death hummed. "Yes, and I did not once fuck Life and have her birth Chaos."

There was silence. Then Harry snorted into Tom's crotch. "Merlin, you're weird."

Tom wholeheartedly agreed, and promptly forgot the point of the conversation when suddenly his trousers vanished and Death had shoved a lubed finger up his arse. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to feel wanted. 

Perhaps he'd appeal to stay in Limbo, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys enjoyed please don't forget to leave a kudos and a comment! Tell me what you think I should write next, or any prompts you have <3


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